


Hot Comic Shop Guy

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Comic Book Store, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Done for the AU meme; for Charlie, who requested Richard/Severin Indie bookstore, record store, comic shop, etc. AU.<br/>Severin owns a comic book store. Richard's an illustrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Comic Shop Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seazu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seazu/gifts).



> Charlie,  
> I know you were expecting me to do the bookshop AU for this, but I have so many ideas for it that I don't know where to start. Maybe I'll do it some day. When I have the motivation to give it the time and effort it deserves.  
> This is not really a story so much as a collection of little scenes, and it's not great. My writing hasn't really been up to scratch lately. But you were feeling down and ill the other day, so I wanted to give you something to cheer you up. Hopefully it will manage that.

Severin glances up at the sound of the bell above the door. He can just about make out a head of dark, messy hair over the top of the bookcases. The person pauses, gives their head a little shake, then reaches up to run a hand through their hair, trying to get rid of some of the rain water. Severin watches with an idle smile before giving his attention back to the order form he's filling out.

He finishes the form, gives it a read over to double check he hasn't made a mistake, then sits it aside to send off later. Only then does he look up again, and kind of wishes he had of sooner. The customer is browsing through the stacks of comics now, and it turns out they are actually a terribly attractive man. Severin automatically licks his lips, turning his head away but continuing to subtly follow the man's movements with his eyes. It takes him a few moments to build up the courage to speak.

“Can I help you with something?”

Richard doesn't immediately react to the words. He's crouched between two bookcases, rapidly flicking through a row of comics. His fingers pause, eyes slowly flicking to the counter.

“Uhm, I'm good, thanks. Just having a look.”

Fuck. Severin was entirely unprepared for that voice. Was in no way ready for that accent. Jesus. He swallows, giving a nod, but Richard's attention is already back to the comics beneath his fingertips.

“If you need anything...”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He rolls his pen between his fingers awkwardly, suddenly very aware of every inch of his body and not entirely sure why. He drops it into his pen pot so he has no temptation to fidget, and instead gives in to the desire to watch Richard.

He's wearing slim fit, form hugging maroon jeans, tucked into black boots, and a thick, oversized knitted white cardigan over a black v-neck. Severin doesn't pretend to know much (read: anything, really) about fashion, but he can tell that Richard has a style all of his own. One that he wears pretty damn well. Severin has to force himself to look away after another minute or two, afraid that he's going to be caught staring.

Richard hums to himself, a pile of comics resting in the bend of his left elbow. He rocks back on his feet a few times before bouncing up out of his crouch. He flicks through the pile in his arms, regarding them thoughtfully before his attention goes back to the book cases. He trails his fingers along the shelves, pausing when something catches his attention, occasionally adding to his pile. When he finally approaches the counter and dumps his pile in front of Severin, there has to be at least twenty comics in it.

“Find everything you wanted?”

“Mmm.” Richard doesn't look at Severin, his eyes on the comics as he chews his lower lip thoughtfully. “I think so.”

“You only think so?” Severin smiles, and Richard finally glances up to meet his gaze. “If there's anything else, I could-”

“No, no. I wasn't looking for anything in particular.”

“Oh.” Severin starts scanning Richard's selection, moving them from one pile to a new, neater pile. “Okay.”

“Sorry. I don't mean to brush you off or anything. I must sound terribly rude.”

“No, no, not at all.”

“No, I must. I am sorry. You're very considerate to offer.”

“Well, it is kind of my job.” Severin smiles, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.

Richard laughs, and Severin wants to bottle the sound so he will never forget it.

“Right. Of course.”

“Besides, you must know your comics.”

“Uh- Not at all, actually.”

“Oh. I just assumed, because you were getting so many... Gifts?”

“No, no, I just wanted to experiment with new styles.” Richard smiles, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. “I'm an illustrator.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really.”

“What do you illustrate?”

“Well, I've only done a few children's books so far. I'm quite new to it. I used to do graphic design for an advertising agency, but the company went bankrupt a few months ago. Then a friend of mine wanted me to illustrate his book, and I kind of accidentally stumbled into it. Just thought I'd take a look at some different styles. Sorry. I'm just giving you a life story here, aren't I?”

“Don't worry, I'm enjoying it.” Severin hands Richard across the bag full of comics. “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to come back if you ever want any suggestions, or...” Severin trails off with a nod. Smooth. Very smooth.

“I will. Oh!” Richard quickly slides something out of his wallet. “This is my card. For all your illustration needs.”

Severin turns the card towards him, glancing at the name. Richard Brook.

“I'll be sure to hold on to this.”

“Do.” Richard makes his way towards the door. The bell tinkles as he opens it. “You can also use it to invite me out for coffee. If the urge so takes you.”

He's gone before Severin has the chance to answer, the door falling shut behind him.

*

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hi. Richard?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“It's Severin. From the comic store?”

“Oh. I didn't expect you to actually call. I realised after I left that I never got your name, which is really, horribly rude of me. I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“No, it's terrible. I guess I was just nervous, and I panicked and fled and- Anyway. Severin. That's an unusual name.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

“Not- Not in a bad way, though. I mean, I like it. It's just- I've never heard it before, that's all. What's it's origins?”

“Uh. Latin, I think. I looked it up once.”

“Oh. That's cool. So, do you require my illustrative skills, then, or-?”

“Would you like to get that coffee you mentioned?”

“I, uh. Yes. I would really like that, actually.”

*

“I'm still really sorry about running off without getting your name,” says Richard.

He's sitting across the table from Severin, his hands curled around a steaming cup of peppermint tea. He has shrugged off his red felt coat and it lies draped over the back of his chair, but has left his scarf on. Even looped around his neck once, it still falls past his waist, and Severin still admires the way Richard manages to look so good with (seemingly) so little effort.

“It's fine, really. No big deal.”

“It was such bad manners though. I'm not usually so inconsiderate. I guess you just had me all flustered.” Richard chews his lip, looking sheepishly through his lashes at Severin.

“I never would have guessed. You seemed very cool and collected to me.”

“I must be a good actor, then.”

“Yeah. You must be.”

Severin takes a sip of his own coffee, his eyes scrunched up at the corner from smiling. He can hardly believe that he is sitting here, drinking coffee with this gorgeous man. The autumn chill has painted a blush across Richard's cheeks, and it makes him look younger, makes him look painfully adorable. Severin is so smitten already, it is ridiculous.

“Oh, well, I brought you a present to make up for it.”

“You didn't have to.”

Severin sets his cup down again. He sits a little straighter in his chair, stretching his neck so he can watch as Richard roots through his satchel, curious to see what it is he's brought.

“Don't get excited, it's nothing big. Ah. Here.” Richard pulls out a clear plastic poly pocket with a sheet of paper inside. He looks at it for a second, before setting it on the table and sliding it across to Severin. “See? Nothing amazing.”

Severin lifts the poly pocket from the table, holding it up so he can see what's on the sheet. It's a drawing. A drawing of him, to be precise. Wearing the same thing he was on the day he met Richard; a red checked shirt and jeans, although Richard has added on the cape billowing around him. Drawing Severin is wielding a barcode scanner in his hands, held up in front of him like a gun. He can't pin point the influence of the drawing; it's not a style that he recognises, but seems to be a blend of comic and Richard's own personal style. Printed in large letters across the top of the page: 'HOT COMIC SHOP GUY', then beneath that, 'SEVERIN'. He looks at the drawing for a long time, wanting to give every detail his attention, before looking up at Richard with a little laugh.

“This is brilliant.”

“It's just a quick sketch.”

“Well, I think it's great. I'm going to frame it and put it up behind the counter.”

“Oh, God. If I had of known that I'd have kept it.” The flush over Richard's cheeks darkens, and he ducks his head.

“Too late. It's mine now. No one's ever drawn me before.”

“Your début in the art world.”

“You should just do a whole comic book solely about me. I don't know what powers 'hot comic shop guy' entails, but still.”

“Maybe he could save his boyfriend from the mundane dangers of every day life.” Richard doesn't look up from the table as he speaks.

“Oh? He has a boyfriend, does he?” Severin smiles, leaning closer.

“He could have.”

“I think he'd like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeaaah.”

*

“So if you were an X-Man, what would your power be?”

“You don't get to pick. You're born with the mutation; you're stuck with what you get.”

“Yeah. I know that. I just mean, if you got to pick. What would you?”

“I don't know. If I were a mutant, I'd probably have a terrible power. Something super lame. Like I could reheat cold coffee.”

“That would be really useful actually. Can you do tea as well?”

“Sure. Why not. I can reheat hot beverages that have gone cold.”

“Great. I always forget about my tea when I'm drawing. Then I lift it without thinking and get a mouthful of cold tea. Yeuck. There is nothing more upsetting that taking a big gulp of what you expect to be nice warm tea, only to get cold catastro-tea.”

“I like what you did there.”

“Thank you.”

“Very punny.”

“I try.”

“Is that your power?”

“What? The power of puns?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God. What if I could only talk in puns. Nothing else. Only puns.”

“Oh Jesus.”

“Would you still love me, Severin?”

“I don't know.”

“Would you still heat my tea for me? Still be my hot-tea?”

“I'm leaving now.”

“No.”

“Goodbye.”

“Come back.”

“I am gone.”

“This is your flat, where are you going?”

“To save the world with my incredible reheating powers.”

“Earth's might-tea-ist hero.”

“Richard!

*

“Why comics?”

“Hm?” Severin glances up at Richard, who is sitting on the counter, idly drawing in his sketch pad. He's been doing life drawings of Severin all morning, capturing him as he moves around the shop. Sometimes he stops to kiss Richard briefly between tidying and moving things.

“Why comics? Why a comic book store?”

“I guess I've always liked comics. Collected them. Ever since I was a child. Thought it might be a cool idea to open a store, so I did it, and here we are.”

Richard hums thoughtfully, shading Severin's hair. After a few seconds, his hand stills, and he looks down between his legs to where Severin is couched, clearing out old boxes from beneath the counter.

“Sure you don't want a hand?”

“No. I already told you, I'm fine.” Severin sets his hands on Richard's ankles, trailing them up to his knees and along his thighs as he rises to stand between Richard's legs. “I like tidying.”

“I know. I like helping, though.”

“You're keeping me company. That's enough.”

He presses forward for a quick kiss, which turns into a deeper kiss, an arm snaking around Richard's waist to pull him closer. Richard makes a soft noise against his mouth, and Severin feels the familiar warmth in his chest at knowing this is his man, his boyfriend, his Richard. When they break apart, he kisses the tip of Richard's nose, just to make him giggle.

“Is this always what you wanted to do?”

“Uh. Yeah? I guess.” Severin steps away again, returning to his tidying.

“You never wanted to be anything else? When you were a kid or anything?”

“I, uh. I wanted to write, for a while. Maybe make my own comic. But as you know, I lack any artistic ability, so that dream was short lived.”

“Aw, you're not that bad.”

“You're being kind, but we both know that's a lie. There are ducks with more artistic ability than me. Worse. There are drunk ducks that are better than me. Alcoholic ducks whose lives are falling apart and who have turned to art as an outlet, and they are doing better than I ever could.”

Richard laughs.

“Ducks can't hold pencils, silly.”

“Even worse! Although they could. In their beaks.” Severin takes a contemplative pause. “Besides, who said they were drawing with a pencil? Maybe they just waddle around in paint and then create masterpieces with their little webbed feet. Like finger painting.”

“Maybe,” says Richard, giving a serious nod, before he laughs again. “What about writing, then?”

“What about it?”

“Are you good at that?”

“Er. I'm alright, I suppose? Kind of hard to judge. It's pretty subjective. Can you hand me that pile of receipts?”

“Yeah, of course. Here.” Richard passes the pile to Severin. “Hm. That's true. Do you ever write anything now?”

“Thanks. Uh, the odd bit. Mostly just scribble ideas down and never make anything of them.”

“Well, you know.” Richard shuts his notebook, watching Severin. “I can draw.”

“Yes, I do know that.”

“And you can write.”

“Just about.”

“So...”

Severin looks at Richard quizzically.

“So?”

“We could always collaborate on a comic.”

“Ha. Yeah, right.”

“Why not? Even if we only do it independently. You could sell it here!”

“There's a lot of work to a comic, Richard.”

“There's a lot of work to a lot of things, it doesn't make them any less worth doing. Besides, if nothing else, it'll be a nice joint project for us to work on. Think about it?”

“Okay.”

“Good!” Richard hops down off the counter, bending to kiss Severin firmly. “I'm done drawing, can I help now?”

Severin laughs.

“Yeah, alright.”

*

There are post-it notes everywhere.

There are boxes of Richard's possessions that are still not fully unpacked, piled in the corner of Severin's living room, and even they have clusters of post-it notes over them.

Severin's are always the same. Yellow paper; black pen. Ideas and names and costume descriptions. Words and definitions and the occasional reminder of 'I love you'.

Richard's vary. Richard's notes come in orange and pink and green. Some have sketches; of character designs, settings, weapons, costume designs. Some have responses to Severin, suggestions and developments. Some have puns or lines of poetry or reminders to buy milk with too many kisses at the bottom. His messages are born from markers, pencils, paintbrushes, highlighters, and once, smudged lettering in charcoal.

They appear on the fridge and the bathroom mirror and the corner of the television. There is even a row along the headboard of their shared bed.

There are post-it notes everywhere. They are building a world from them.

*

“I can't believe it's finished.”

“I know. Finally.”

“We did it. We actually did it.”

“I told you we could.”

“No one's gonna buy it.”

“Don't say that.”

“It's true.”

“You don't know that.”

“It is pretty cool.”

“Yeah.”

“The art is gorgeous.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Really, Richie. It looks great.”

“Yeah, well, you came up with it.”

“And you brought it to life. It wouldn't exist, without you. I wouldn't even have started. This is your doing.”

“No. It's ours. We made it together, yeah? It wouldn't exist without both of us.”

“Yeah. Ours.”

“Not quite as good as Hot Comic Shop Guy, but it's not bad.”

“No. I'll have to frame a copy. Put it up beside Hot Comic Shop Guy.”

“Modern masterpieces.”

“Clearly your best work by far.”

“Yeah?

“Yeaaah.”

Richard laughs. Severin's laughter joins his, the sounds melding together.

Then he pulls Richard close and kisses him, their mixed laughter lost in the press of their lips.

 

 


End file.
